


137

by GalacticTwink



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s01e06 Rick Potion No. 9, Existential Crisis, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore, Not Shippy, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticTwink/pseuds/GalacticTwink
Summary: Uprooted from his home dimension, Morty doesn't know how to go on knowing he'll never really be 'home' again.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez & Morty Smith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37
Collections: GalacticTwink Highlights





	137

**Author's Note:**

> Watched R&M when I was in a mood and wrote this

My head throbs, eyelids resisting as I force them shut only for a split second. The pounding gets louder, my mom’s hand pounding against my bedroom door. It blends into the whine, the dull sound swallowing the harsh knock.

“Morty, you’re going to be late; you’d better not still be in bed!” I say something, but it doesn’t reach my lips. My mouth is so dry, not a peep even passes through my throat.

Did I sleep last night? I don’t remember. Everything gets blurry after what happened at the dance. But, did what happened to me even happen in this dimension? What did the Morty who used to live here do?

Mom opens my door, her words echoing around the room- too garbled to distinguish from the noise. I try to get up, but my arms aren’t strong enough to move the weight that’s settled on my chest. It’s hard to breathe, my vision glossy and blurred from being up all night desperately trying to keep my eyes open to keep away the image of my own charred corpse seared into my eyelids. It flashes across my mind every time I blink, blood dripping down my temple.

“Morty?” my skin ripped and peeling away from the bloody bone and muscle beneath. “alright, I’m calling the school. You stay in here and get some sleep, okay?” my eyes didn’t even close, life ripped from the pupils leaving them staring blankly into the distance. The bloody smear across the garage floor, splatted across the walls and the ceiling.

My desk is in a different place. The detail strains my own eyes back into focus, staring across the room at the familiar piece of furniture. I picked it out and it took dad all day to put together. I haven’t moved it since we had to haul it up the stairs into my room. But that didn’t happen. That isn’t my desk; this isn’t my room. Its some other Morty’s. Different posters, different desk, different life. Can I really take it?

I scrape my nails across the palm of my hand. I swear I can still see blood, dripping down my fingers from where I grabbed my own body. Dirty under my nails that I just can’t reach- a stain on my jeans that I’ll never get out. I swallow, choking on my saliva as it goes down.

The air feels heavier here, every breath harder than the last- like if I stay any longer I’ll drown. Everything I know, everything I’ve done, everything I was going to do.. is it all gone? Will my life ever be the same as it was? What if I was going to do something amazing, but now in this dimension my future is completely different?

Will I just become this other Morty? Or are we really all the same? If no one will notice, does that mean I really am disposable? That if I ever died Rick could just move on with another Morty like nothing ever happened?

I fall asleep, but I barely notice. Drifting between the blurry outline of my bedroom and the clear silhouette of the Earth we left behind. Am I still Morty C-137? Or am I the Morty of this dimension now? I don’t even know where we are.

Stumbling out of my room, I run straight into a plant I’ve never seen before. I thought everything was the same when we got here, but it’s different. The color of the couch and the shape of the rug.. new tables and furniture rearranged just enough to open up a pit in my stomach. Every tiny detail making the realization louder inside my head until it feels like I’m screaming. This isn’t my house. I don’t belong here. The Rick and Morty in this dimension were supposed to die, what will happen if we’re still here?

I turn on the faucet. The splash of the stream against steel is louder than the buzz in my ears, easing my shoulders just enough to pretend I can relax.

“Morty?” the water turns off. I blink dumbly up at Rick, his own unchanging expression glaring down at me. “You’re, uh, standing in a pile of broken glass.” what? I look down at my hands, the cup I was going to drink out of not in either of them anymore. “You’ve been standing out here for a while, you need a bottle of water or somethin’?”

“I need to wash my hands,” I mutter, back of my throat stinging as I grab for the faucet again. “You hands are clean, Morty.” I look again. For a second, they are, but I can stil feel the dirt wedges beneath my nails. When I lurch forward I feel the broken glass scrape against my ankle. I didn’t hear it break, when did I drop it. When I look back at Rick his face is different, blood creeping down his hairline into his dead, unseeing eyes. But then he’s the same again, looking down at me the same way he does an invention that breaks.

“R-R-Rick,” I stammer, struggling more than usual to know what I want to say. “Rick, what dimension is this?” he sighs, tucking his flask into his coat to grab me by the shoulders; shaking me lightly, but still enough to make my head spin.

“Is that what this is about? Mor-Morty, Morty listen to me. Everything here is the same. Okay? Ev-everything is fine, everything is gonna be okay. It’s the same as the one we came from- it’s better! Everyone is normal and your mom is here, and Summer, and-and all your little friends from school. This, this dimension is perfect for you. You’re C-137 Morty taking on Delta-23-C and it’s gonna be great!” he turns me towards the window, arm looping around my shoulders to keep me upright. It’s still bright outside, the same as when we got here.

“Alright Morty let’s get you back to bed, yo-you you look awful. You need some sleep. I feel him lift me up and over the glass on the floor, the weightlessness of being carried making my vision sway with every step.

“Am I dead Rick? Am I supposed to be dead?” he sets me down on my bed. “No, Morty, not you. You’re right where you’re supposed to be- with me. Remember? We Ricks, we-we need Mortys. I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without you.” Rick sits down next to me, my shoulder pressed against his keeping me from swaying. My vision clears a little bit, the world coming back into a hazy focus.

“Couldn’t you just replace me?” “Whaaaat? No way Morty, you’re the only one that’ll do it for me. The Rick-est Rick needs the Morty-est Morty. I-I’d never be able to find another one like you.” “Really?” my words feel heavy, a yawn teasing in my chest but not pushing its way out.

I look down at my hands in my lap. My nails are clean.

“Really.”


End file.
